


Sulking doesn't solve your problems

by reichenebach



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, fluffy fluff, you might die from cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reichenebach/pseuds/reichenebach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is acting strangely, or at least more strangely than usual, and John is determined to find out what has happened to the talkative genius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sulking doesn't solve your problems

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is my first Johnlock fic, and I hope you enjoy it. It's a short little ficlet, which I may write more of in the future. Feel free to leave a comment, and tell me what you think.

"Johnnn. I'm bored." Sherlock had been lying on the couch for the entire day, and no matter how nicely John asked, he wouldn't eat, and outright refused to do anything to help John. Much to John's annoyance, that had meant he had to do an awful lot of washing up all on his own, which included tidying up a few of Sherlock's...experiments. He wasn't even sure you could call them that. A severed finger had slowly been rotting upon the kitchen counter throughout the week, and by Saturday, John decided that he really should tidy it up, especially since the pungent smell did not make cooking dinner a particularly pleasant experience.

Sherlock had failed to notice John's efforts at scrubbing the granite surface back to its former glory, and instead stared at the ceiling, giving an occasional grumble. He was obviously not thinking over some important issue. His eyes were wide open, rolling around in their sockets, without looking out for anything in particular, and he was still able to stay awake, even as the purple bags under his eyes continued to grow, and the man possessing them refusing to rest at all. His hands weren't resting against his chin, poised in thought. Instead they were splayed across the couch, limbs drooping off the edge of the seat. This did not look like Sherlock Holmes. At least not the genius, machine-like, ever-working man that John knew.

Once John had survived the handful of a job, he walked into the living room, and stood opposite the couch, for once being the short man looking down at the man he usually looked up to, (in both senses of the word).

"Sherlock? What are you doing?"

No response.

"Sherlock? Please, tell me what's wrong." He decided to rest of the armrest, and looked down at Sherlock almost _affectionately_. The other man let out a quiet grumble and shuffled his legs for the side of the couch John was resting on, giving him space to sit. Sherlock turned his head from the doctor, and curled up on the single side of the couch. John accepted the invitation to join him there and continued to stare, grew ever more confused by his flatmate's odd behaviour. Of course Sherlock was as odd a flatmate as you could get, but he was never like this.

"Sherlock..."There was a slight quiver in John's voice. He had no idea what he could do to help. Other than...but no. Sherlock has stated at the very beginning of their friendship that he wasn't the romantic type. John's mind soon gave in to his gut and he reached forward to gently reach the detective's shoulder. Sherlock looked right up at him, with a confused expression on his face, and began to sit up from his previously constrained position. His gaze followed John's hand on his shoulder, he didn't push it away. He stared back at John, and let the tenseness in his muscles drain out.

"I..."Sherlock had no idea what he should say. He suddenly felt embarrassed by his previous behaviour, and diverted his gaze from John's. "I...felt lonely. You...weren't here a lot so I..."

"So you sulked?" It was funny seeing the consulting detective, normally with a brain running a hundred times faster than his, racing through a thousand words a minute, finally speechless. "Oh Sherlock, you should have said something...Look um..." John was slowly beginning to regret the next few words, but he knew they'd have to be said sooner or later. And since this was a rather appropriate time, he preferred sooner. "Sherlock. I think I'm..in love with you." A sigh of relief surged through as the words were finally said. And gentle smile spread over the consulting detective's lips.

"Me too, John. I've meant to say it before but.."

"Doesn't matter. Come here, you idiot." John shuffled in closer to Sherlock's side and happily felt himself doze off, safer than ever before.


End file.
